


Far From Eden

by VelvetCandy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, Trans Male Character, Trans Phil, rape mention, suicide mention/attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetCandy/pseuds/VelvetCandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>English Nobles are exactly what they're supposed to be: noble. Honesty and rule abiding are essential in their world. But for the Lester household, secrets are all there are. Philip Lester is the only child of the family, however he was born Penelope. With the help of his best friend and maid, Nancy, Philip manages a double life in the harsh Victorian era.  But life grows more complicated when the young boy meets a beautiful stranger named Daniel as well as another rich noble who has taken an interest to him.  With conflicting sides of his life, Philip is forced to make cutting decisions and possibly face the threat of losing that dearest to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is gonna be slightly shorter than my other ones. It'll have a lot of chapters, but the chapters will only be 1.5K words each so it's not that much of a drag
> 
> Also, this was inspired by the song From Eden by Hozier so go listen to it!

_ Choice is not something we humans have the luxury of; I of all people should know this the best.  Throughout my life, all I have ever known is a series of events that are chosen by anyone else apart from me. Call it what you will: fate, destiny, what have you. But what I know for certain is that none of us on this Earth have control of their own life and what happens during it. My life definitely wasn’t an exception. _

On the thirtieth of January, 1874. Mary Lester gave birth to her only child, a beautiful baby girl. The woman rejoiced, for she had always wanted a daughter, and her husband too felt happiness in his heart. Most men of his nobility would be less than thrilled to not have an official heir to company, but Charles cared not. He loved this child with every fiber within, no matter what the sex was. Charles Lester was truly a wise man, and Mary had the gentlest soul known to any, yet their child was undoubtedly a try on their patience.

Penelope Arlene Lester was such a sweet child at times, a smile brighter than the sun and a laugh that never seemed to cease. But when it did, the world grew dark. Penelope had quite the temper and often would express it in a hot manner, tears running down her cheeks as she screamed and hit whatever was nearest. It worried Mary and Charles greatly, and they constantly hired new maids and governesses that possibly had a chance at calming the child’s rash mood changes. However, there was no such luck. Until one day, when Penelope was twelve years old, one young woman struck a chord and changed her fate.

“I am a girl.”

Penelope’s dark hair sat straight and soft upon her shoulders looking black as night against her winter pale skin. A peach coloured party dress wrapped around her, Penelope struggled to breathe comfortably and furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance. The young girl stood in front of a grand full length mirror studying her appearance carefully in the dim glow of candlelight. She hated the dress.

Her mother would tell her “it’s the latest fashion!” whenever she complained about attire. “The daughters of nobles should always look their best, besides, all the ladies are wearing it!”  _ Ladies.  _ She didn’t know why, but the word bothered Penelope greatly. Everytime she was called  _ girl _ ,  _ lady _ , or merely  _ daughter _ , something deep inside urged to squirm. Unfortunately, she couldn’t place her finger on it and left the situation alone.

“I am a girl.” She repeated to no one. “I am the daughter of nobles and a lady of the Lester household.” It sounded as if it was more to convince herself than anyone else.

“No.” Penelope nearly jumped out of her skin if it wasn’t for the constricting dress despite the softness of the voice that interrupted. “You’re not.”

Penelope turned around and came face to face with the young maid that was too often in the kitchen for her to converse with, but still the noble knew her name: Nancy Claire. The light of the candles shone against her ginger hair as the maid walked further into the room from where she was standing in the doorway. The girl couldn’t have possibly been over the age of sixteen, yet even so her warm brown eyes appeared far older than her perfect porcelain face.

“What did you say to me?” Penelope asked sternly.

Nancy sighed. “My brother was like this. As a child he was rather unhappy and stubborn too. Quite a bit like yourself, actually.” She smiled fondly. Her voice was soft and compassionate despite her crisp Irish accent.

“And what does your brother have to do with me?” Penelope attempted to sound firm, but  her tone gave way to curiosity.

“My brother…” she began cautiously. “He was born a girl, just the same as you. He was never content, but after he began to live life as a boy...he was the happiest man alive.”

Penelope paused and pondered what had just been brought to her attention. “Are you suggesting that I am a boy born with the body of a female?!” Her voice sounded more scared than angry. “Why would you propose such a thing?!”

Most of the maids would back away and bow in forgiveness whenever Penelope snapped in occasions such as this, but not Nancy. Nancy moved forward, her face filled with sympathy and understanding. 

“Because, master,” she put her hands on Penelope’s shoulders gently. “Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.”

Penelope’s blue eyes widened at Nancy’s words. Never before had the young noble been exposed to this brand of kindness; the kindness where emotions are to be made known and others to help and comfort the one suffering. Penelope’s mother was kind and gentle, yes, but the noble could not recall the last time she was there when tears came forth not in anger but in sadness, in defeat. Most of those tears went unheard in the night, but now they streamed down Penelope’s face rapidly.

“Please.” He begged quietly. “Help me, Nancy.”

Nancy smiled warmly and pulled Penelope into a hug. “Let it all out, it’s okay to cry.” She soothed, petting the back of his hair in a motherly way. “Don’t worry, master. I’m going to help you with everything. I’ll always be there for you.” 

That was when everything changed for the lone Lester child. Nancy kept to her word and helped him with everything; she used war gause and bound his breast, she purchased clothes made for a boy in secret,she cut his long black hair and fashioned a wig for him to wear in the presence of others. Penelope stood in front of the mirror once again once the preparations were all complete, this time accompanied by Nancy and a smile on his face.

“You look superb, young master.” She said graciously. “But sir, what would you have me call you now?”

Penelope stalled. It hadn’t occurred to him yet that the name Penelope was not suitable for a boy. If he ever escaped to the the city on his own surely his name would give his identity away. He was thinking hard about what name he would choose when his eyes darted to the poetry book sitting upon his dresser open to his favourite poem:  _ Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust  _ by Sir Philip Sidney.

He turned around hastily to face Nancy. “Philip.” He announced. “Address me as Philip, if you please, Nancy.”

She grinned, understanding the significance behind the name. “ _ Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath. _ ” She quoted perfectly. “Of course, Master Philip. I hope you understand how incredibly gleeful I am for your sake.”

“Yes.” Philip said, smiling faintly. “I hope I am happy as well.”


	2. Chapter 2

Philip despised mornings. At exactly eight o’clock sharp, Nancy would wake him and help with dressing which, depending on the day’s schedule, would either be binding or corsets. He hated corsets more than anything. He would most likely be able to handle wearing dresses, as he was fond of the graceful feeling, but it was the fact that he lacked the ability to breathe in such clothing that put him off so terribly.

Morning light streamed in through the windows casting cool golden colours throughout the room, and the young noble woke refreshed in his bed. By the time Nancy had entered the bedchambers, Philip had been up already for several minutes simply basking in the serenity of the moment. His gaze was broken by her soft and light laughter, the laughter that comforted him and made him smile.

“I see that you’re already awake, master. Quite unusual, wouldn’t you agree?” Her brown eyes crinkled as the girl giggled creating a look of pure happiness on the her face.

He sighed contently. “I suppose so. But it’s so  _ beautiful  _ today, Nan. It’d be shame to let such a morning go to waste.” He sat up in the bed and smiled back at his friend.

“What?!” She fake gasped. “Surely this cannot be the words  _ my master  _ would speak! It would be blasphemous to rise before ten! How shocking!” She placed a hand to her heart and pretended to act faint to which Philip rolled his eyes and laughed. 

“Whatever. Just help me dress, why don’t you.”

It had been roughly five years since that night when the humble maid approached him and offered her help kindly, and over those years Nancy and Philip had grown closer together. He was correct about her age, as she was sixteen when they met and now was twenty-one, barely an adult. She never told him why she had become a maid at such a young age, but something told Philip that it was a matter not to be discussed with her. He took so much pity on her; such a young face with eyes older than the stars.

Philip swung his legs over the side of the bed and his eyes fell upon a periwinkle frock. “Oh no, what is it on my schedule today?” He groaned.

“Master and Lady Lester have requested a formal breakfast with you to talk of important matters. I presume the master will want to present business affairs so it shan’t be that long timewise.”

“Yes, but it’ll be dreadfully boring.”

“That may be so, Phil, but that’s all you have on your schedule today. Well, besides  _ church _ .” Nancy winked. Church had become a code word between the two of them for time to be free, time to roam the streets of London how he has always wanted to.

“Then I suppose I’ll just grit my teeth and get over it.” Philip muttered.

“Splendid. Now stand up.” Phil stood as Nancy disrobed him and slipped the blue dress over his head, grimacing in pain as she pulled the corset strings tight. She then retrieved the raven black wig from the wardrobe and placed it neatly on top of the boy’s head making him look just how a noble daughter would.

Philip took a deep breath and exhaled as he descended the grand staircase to the main floor of the mansion.  _ Just get it over with.  _ He struggled to breathe in the corset and almost tripped down the stairs, but then again he always almost trips down the stairs no matter what attire he had on. Finally, he successfully reached the floor and made his way slowly to the breakfast room where his mother and father were already waiting.

Charles Lester sat reading a newspaper silently, drinking tea from a porcelain teacup. On the other end of the breakfast table sat Mary Lester with her nose buried in a novel who seemed undisturbed by her child’s entrance. Phil smiled at this; he honestly did get his love of books from his mother. It was only when he sat down that his parents finally took notice of Phil’s presence in the room.

“Penelope!” His mother nearly yelled. At the sudden surprise of volume his father jumped in his seat and splashed tea down his front. Instead of getting angry, however, he merely laughed and blotted at the stain with one of the napkins.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear-”

“No worries, love. But Penelope,” he turned to Philip. “I’m glad you agreed to join us for breakfast. It seems as if we never spend time together anymore, especially since you’re always off with charity work. Can’t say I’m displeased, but I do love spending time with you.”

Phil looked down at his hands. He knew that there was no other way, but he hated lying to his family.

“I like spending time with you too, father. Unfortunately I’ve volunteered my afternoon to them so I’m afraid we can’t spend time together until tomorrow.”

“How awful. I was going to offer you to come to the market with me and Lady Maude and search for writing supplies. I heard a shipment of calligraphy stock has just arrived from China at the docks!”

“With all due respect, my love, I’m sure she wouldn’t want to spend all day walking around London in the heat of  August looking for pens and ink with your friend.” 

Mary narrowed her eyes at her husband and Phil tried hard to suppress a laugh. With a small  _ hmph  _ his mother returned to her book and left Charles to talk with Phil alone.

“Now, Penelope, about this important business…” as soon as the word business left his mouth, Phil turned his ears off. It had become quite easy to tune out what others were saying and he had become a master at responding vaguely enough to fake attention. In his mind he would escape to a world where he ran barefoot through thick grass, the sun beaming warmly on his face. It was a nice world; he wished he could stay there forever.

Philip couldn’t tell how much time had passed during their talk but he presumed it had taken longer than expected as the sun was almost completely in the sky. Charles was quite happy with the way the conversation had gone and this worried Phil, as he had no idea what they were talking about. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too important.

Checking to make sure no one was watching, he raced up the grand staircase to his bedchambers where Nancy was already waiting. Upon the bed sat an amber coloured shirt and dark brown trousers with a vest. In her hands, Nancy held a cap the same colour as the vest and trousers and offered it to Phil with a smile. He smiled back just as wide and nearly slammed the door behind him in excitement.

“Are you going to the docks today, Phil? I heard a ship came in from China.” She said as she approached him.

Philip pulled on the neckline of his dress harshly and gripped the bones of the corset.“I don’t care where I go,” he said, reaching back to attempt to untie the strands that bound him. “Just get me out of this bloody murder weapon.”


	3. Chapter 3

August was always hot in London; the sun beat down angrily and the air itself was thick with irritation. Children still played about in the streets and the last bout of fresh produce waited to be sold at the farmer’s market, the sweet scent of cucumbers and strawberries lingering around the stands. Phil walked down the streets taking in all of the beauty and authenticity of his surroundings. In his mind, the sounds and smells all twisted together into a beautiful concoction the way a writer would romanticize any place such as this. In truth, the streets of London weren’t nearly as culturally diverse as a poet would dream of, but all the same, they were beautiful to Phil.

With his left hand in his pocket and the right tossing a red apple into the air and catching it, the boy meandered down alleys and passages, not walking to any place in particular, but just going to where the wind lead him. He ended up at the main port where magnificent ships had docked for loading and unloading their halls. Phil recalled what his mother had said about a ship coming in from China and decided to watch the workers carry off the supplies.

Despite the ship coming from China, it wasn’t more impressive than any of the others. It was roughly the same size as the other boats and there was no special decoration upon its hull, and from the looks of the workers coming off of the ship, it wasn’t even a Chinese ship. Phil decided that it was probably an English ship that had gone to China and come back with calligraphy supplies instead of originating near Beijing and traveling to London. Nonetheless, he watched the shipmates carry off crates with fascination.

Philip loved ships. He loved the aspect of travelling in general, something he hoped to do one day in his life. He dreamed of cities like New York and open countries with beautiful, clear skies and air that did not smell of manure. London was nice, sure, but he wanted  _ more.  _

So there he sat on a wooden crate, his arm propped on his knee carelessly eating an apple and watching the workers. He looked just like any other boy would. Phil often dreamt of living a normal life, or at least what it would be like to live one. His father could be something average, like a cobbler and his mother a seamstress well known and liked by all. He would work in his father’s shop for money and attend his last year of college with other boys; he could even play sports. He would come home to a small yet welcoming house and his mother would smile saying  _ “there’s my handsome young man.”  _ He would be respected because of his kindness, not because of his heritage.

He sighed deeply. Yes, Phil could dream of being normal all he wanted; but that simply would never be the case. Phil would always be a noble, he would always be esteemed for no reason other than tradition, and he would never have a friend on his own. Everything in his life was either given or forced upon him, and he detested it all.

Phil looked out upon the water and revelled in the serenity. Most days in England were rainy and grey, but this summer had been mostly clear blue skies that the water and his mood reflected deeply. The sea itself was calmer than usual, barely any waves made the port peaceful and not at all choppy as how it normally was. Philip was right this morning when he had believed it was going to be a beautiful day.

From the shadows, his eyes wandered over the scene of men carrying crates off of the ship. Phil liked to study people and often created interesting backstories for them in his mind as he did so. He saw a shorter muscular man in about his mid thirties wiping the sweat off his brow with with the back of his toned hand.  _ Soldier _ , Phil thought.  _ He’s a war soldier with a wife and a few children however he was forced out of his home and life for his alcohol problem and now works at the docks for minimum salary.  _ He scanned the people and saw a woman with a particularly revealing corset and bright red lips conversing with a hard looking man.  _ Prostitute and a barmaid that has fallen in love with a master criminal despite her occupation.  _ Phil liked to write stories about people, especially in London, but for some reason it just wasn’t as interesting today as it normally was. Until he saw someone.

The boy couldn’t have been much older than he. He was tall, sure, but the youth was evident in his tanned light brown skin that glistened in the heat of summer and in the way he bent over and walked almost like a young child. When the stranger turned around, Phil could barely breathe. Dark brown almost black curly hair framed a flawless slender face with a narrow nose and lips that were red like roses; but it was the eyes that were the most stunning. Almond eyes the colour of rich chocolate swirled and stunned Phil, making him feel as if the world was collapsing in a soft fire. Merely a few seconds of staring at this boy, and Phil had already decided that that was something he could never tire of doing.

Phil was transfixed by this stranger utterly and studied him in awe and fascination. The way his skinny arms looked when he carried crates, the way he slumped slightly when he walked, he wanted to drink all of it in. So there he sat, with his head rested in his hand contently, staring at the boy. Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, Philip had not recalled that it was considered impolite in society to stare at someone and was thrown out of his awe when the boy reciprocated the gaze amusingly. With Phil being how he was, he continued to look at him for a few moments before suddenly becoming embarrassed and dropping his eyes down to his hands.

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil could see that the boy was talking to another worker, perhaps around the same age as the both, and was nodding his head towards his direction.  _ Please don’t walk my way. Please don’t walk my way.  _ Phil silently begged. He suddenly became very interested in the loose string on his sleeve when the sunlight was blocked and he looked up slowly, a pair of brown eyes looking directly at him.

“Hello.” The boy spoke softly with a surprisingly posh accent, his voice light yet mellow.

“Erm, hello.” Phil replied clumsily. 

“I noticed you were...uh...looking at me.” The boy said, rubbing his neck.  _ Dear Lord this is awkward.  _

“Oh...oh, yeah! I, erm, saw that you were lifting a heavy crate and I was...impressed.” It sounded more like a question when he said it, but it wasn’t totally a lie. Phil was definitely impressed with what he saw.

The boy smiled. “Really? This is nothing. You should see the crates for tea; they weigh more than forty-five kilograms each! It’s like carrying solid rock sometimes, it really gets your heart pumping.”

“I suppose something like that would. I’m not much of one for physical activity so I wouldn’t know, I mean you’re here all heavy lifting with muscles and I just have skinny limbs.”  _ Why am I still talking.  _

“No, you’re not that skinny. I’d just say more petite. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Just...different.” A pause of odd silence came about and the boy shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Phil was about to start talking again when the stranger said something that caught him off guard. “You’re- you’re very beautiful.”

For a moment, Phil forgot every word in the English language. “I...what?”

The boy didn’t falter when he replied once again. “I said that you’re very beautiful.”

Phil could feel the heat in his cheeks. “You do realize that you’re a boy...and I’m a boy...that that we’re both boys…?”

“What, is it illegal to call another boy beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.” The stranger looked off and smiled as if to fake guilt. After a few seconds he turned back to Phil, his eyes shining. “Do you have any plans for the night?”

“Erm, no. I don’t think so, at least.”

“Good. Me and my friends are going down to the pub for a few drinks ‘round nine. You should come; it’d like to get to know you better.”

“I barely know you now.”

“That’s why I said  _ better. _ ”

“But we’re strangers!” Phil almost shouted, a laugh at the ridiculousness pitching in the back of his throat.

“Right then. My name’s Daniel, Daniel Howell. But you can call me Dan. And you are?”

“Philip.” He said righteously. “Philip Lester.”

“Great! Now we’re not strangers. So about those drinks….”

Phil sighed, worn out by Dan’s excited giddiness. “Sure, why not?”

Dan nearly jumped in joy. “That’s amazing! I can hardly wait.” He looked over his shoulder at his co-worker and frowned. “I should be getting back to work now. It was nice meeting you, though. See you then, Philip!” The boy called over his shoulder as he walked back to the ship.

Phil stood from where he was sitting on the crate and brushed himself off.  _ Philip.  _ He liked the way his name sounded when Dan said it, like a song meant only for him to hear. He chuckled to himself as he thought about the boy’s enthusiasm, but it didn’t put him off. In fact, it only intrigued him. Phil wanted to see him again if only to study his character, and all he had to do was wait till the night then they would meet again. Phil walked away from the docks smirking, his hands in his pockets. Yes, they would definitely meet again.


	4. Chapter 4

The pub reeked of sweat and testosterone, loud talking and shouting filling the space that was crowded with people. Phil normally would try his best avoid contact with any of them, as they seemed dirty and violent, but for the moment he couldn’t care less. His eyes locked on Dan’s deep brown ones from across the room and that was all his mind could focus on. Dodging beer being sloshed in his direction, the boy made his way to a small wooden table with stools where his new friend and a few other men sat drinking.

“Philip!” Dan nearly knocked over the stool he was sitting on as he stood up abruptly. Despite his obvious excitement, he pretended to have a calm exterior, most likely in an attempt to recover from almost wrecking the pub stool. Dan put his arm around Phil’s shoulders in a comraderous way that seemed too familiar for friends that had just met that same day.

The man that had been talking with Dan before pulled up another stool for Phil without saying a word. He had dirty blond hair and dark olive green eyes that seemed to glower whoever looked at them; Phil decided to not attempt a conversation with this man.

The shear virility of the other men was enough the make the posh noble feel intimidated and quite out of place. He may have been a boy, but he was still stuck in the body of a female. But when Dan would place a single hand on his shoulder, Phil could feel the tension drain from him like tea from a kettle. The boy was such a strange phenomenon to Phil, never before had he met someone so carefree and excitable, and yet there was something else about him too. He had a feeling that there was more beyond the childlike surface that the boy put out.

A man with a thick scar over his eye slid a pint over to Phil and he took it carefully. The brown liquid in the glass looked more like dirty water than it did alcohol and he gulped nervously. Phil had never drank beer before, the only alcohol he had had was champagne and the occasional glass of wine, but that was never too much to bare. Yet because he knew the other men were expecting him to, Phil put the steine up to his lips and poured the drink into his mouth, chugging it quickly. Surprising, it was not as unpleasant as he thought it was going to be.

“Oi! Take it easy, kid! Don’t wanna headache in the mornin’ now, do ya?” The scarfaced man laughed heartily. 

“Yeah right, Ri. Says the bloke who practically lives in the pub!” A smaller ginger boy shouted. Phil smiled widely and glanced over to Dan who was laughing just the same and looking him over with intrigued eyes. Philip had a feeling this night was going to be unlike any other he had experienced before.

Hours passed steadily and during that time Philip came to know each of the men Daniel called friends. The blond was Corby, or at least that was what the others called him, and the man with the scar was named Ri. Ri was a delightful man with a contagious laugh and he quickly became one of Phil’s favourite people. It was later into the night when he realized that Ri had been the man he created a shameful alcoholic backstory for and Phil felt guilty as he was truly a kind man at heart. The ginger boy, named Harvey, was a quaint creature. He seemed almost shy at times, but he laughed the hardest out of them all and his freckled splashed face turned a bright red when he did so, to the point where just the sight of it made the rest burst with laughter. There were others as well: Lee and Edwin were brothers from Scotland and Hugh was a young police officer in training. No one questioned as to why a police officer would be drinking in a pub with dock workers so Philip raised no eyebrows at the subject. Yet out of all of the people, he loved learning about Dan the most.

Daniel James Howell was his full name, he was sixteen years old, and he loved the sea. Not the beach, as the mere thought of sand set his teeth on edge, but the black glassy water that glided ships all over the world. One day, he said to Phil, he wants to sail and explore all over the world. Despite his appearance and relations, Dan was quite intelligent. He described in great detail the novels he read in his studies and free time; that of Renaissance poets and worldly cartographers. Listening to him speak of these topics was incredibly soothing, Phil soon found. He was so passionate with every word, every breath, and the way his eyes lit up was addicting to watch. It was a shame he lived in poverty with his aunt and brother as university was forever out of the equation, Phil believed he could do great things with such a sharp mind.

There was no way of telling what the time was. The sun had set hours earlier and the bell tower could not possibly be heard over the laughing, shouting and music of the small pub. The minutes seemed to slip away like grains of sugar in the company of what once were complete strangers to Philip but were now friends like an oasis of lotus flowers. He knew very well how careful he should be being but instead let the moment wash over him, content replacing anxiety with every breath.

“Hey, Phil? Do you wanna go for a walk with me?” Dan had come up right behind Phil and leaned down close to his ear to ask the question, his warm breath making him shudder.

“Erm, yeah. Sure, why not?” Phil replied lightly. With the amount of drinks he had the world was a bit hazy but not entirely a blur and Dan didn’t seem one bit bothered by the alcohol.

He grinned with flashing white teeth and waved his hand at Corby to signal their departure receiving a grunt in reply. Dan grabbed Phil’s upper arm and lead him outside weaving through throngs of drunken people with ease as if he had done this sort of thing countless times before. Phil realized that he probably had. The air was slightly cooler without the sun’s heat when they left the congested establishment but the summer humidity lingered still in the night. It was strangely quiet compared to the noise of the crowd they had just left.

Dan and Phil walked side by side down the empty street, stumbling every once in awhile and having to hold on to each other to stand up right. Not much conversation was struck, but even so the situation wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable even.

“So…” Phil said after a particularly long silence, now feeling the need to talk to Dan. “How long have you worked at the docks?”

“Not long, about a year maybe? It was just a thing to help auntie with money but it turns out I love it. It’s not a full time job though, which is sorta sad. Over the winter I help an old cobbler in his shop; a lot of the other guys have two jobs too.” Dan wasn’t looking a Phil, or at anything really. His gaze was up and out towards the stars and whatever was on his mind.

Phil’s eyes were trained on Dan as he walked; he couldn’t stop staring at those enchanting brown eyes. In a way, they almost reminded him of Nancy’s warm brown ones, but hers were lighter like amber and his ran rich and dark like a river of chocolate. It was almost as if every time he looked at the boy, Phil found some new wonder about him.

Neck deep in his own thoughts, Phil was suddenly pulled out of them when he became aware that Dan had stopped walking and was now staring back at him. A blush creeped up his face and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks; Phil was glad it was dark outside.

Before Dan could say anything, Phil decided to try and avoid embarrassment by changing the subject. “Why’d you want to go for a walk, Dan? Was there a purpose?”

Dan just shrugged. “Not really. It’s such a beautiful night, I thought I’d spend it with an equally beautiful person.”

Phil could practically see the pride in Dan’s eyes from the smooth compliment he made but he ignored it. “That’s- that’s- why do you keep calling me beautiful?”

“Because it’s true.”

“That’s not what I meant by that.”

Dan edged closer to Phil and locked eyes with him, his breath stopping and heart skipping. “Your eyes, they’re blue.” It was more of a statement than anything but with Dan’s tone of voice it sounded like much more. “I’ve spent my whole life by the sea and staring at the sky and I’ve never seen such shade of blue. You could go swimming in those eyes.”

Somehow Philip blushed even harder than before, and with the close proximity of the boy, he was certain the night did not mask his flattery this time around. He broke the gaze and looked away, tucking his hair behind his ear nervously and clearing his throat. Even though he could no longer clearly see the younger boy, he knew he was still standing extremely close to him; he could feel it.

“You are aware that we are both of the same gender, correct?”

“You keep pointing that out. I’m neither blind nor stupid, Philip.”

“No, I didn’t mean it in that way I just-” Phil sighed. “I’m afraid someone might take your compliments the wrong way and we’d both be thrown in prison.”

“I’m not scared.”

“And why not?”

“Because there’s no one around to see or hear us. I could do anything right now, no matter the context, and the world wouldn’t care one bit. That’s a promise.”

Phil turned back to look at Dan with a face of confusion. He was quiet for a few seconds before he shook his head and opened his mouth to speak again. “You are a puzzling person, Daniel Howell.”

“The feeling is mutual, Philip Lester.” He grinned. They walked a bit more but then Dan stopped yet again to look at Phil, but this time there was something more serious in his eyes. “Have you ever been in love with a girl, Phil? I mean a man like you should have them on their toes, right?”

Phil nearly snorted. “Not at all. I usually don’t get the chance to talk with girls- or with anyone for that matter. As for love...I’ve never loved anyone. Apart from my mai- my friend Nancy.” Phil thought for a second. “Why? Have you ever been in love?”

Dan smiled fondly. “Once, yeah. Believe it or not.”

“Well, what was it like?”

Dan took a deep breath. “Warm.You get this strange feeling deep in your stomach and in your chest, almost like you’re drowning. But’s it’s nice, you know? Nothing else could ever compare. Everything you do feels like it’s for them, and they occupy every thought. I swear, if it wasn’t bliss it would be hell.”

To Phil it sounded frightening, but with the look on Dan’s face combined with the way his voiced melted with every word, nothing made him want to fall in love more. He closed his eyes and imagined pure bliss and let the thought drift over him, a smile slowly forming on his face.

When he opened his eyes, Phil found that he and Dan were standing even closer together now, so close he was afraid that Dan could feel his heartbeat pounding rapidly. On his breath he could smell the bitter alcohol but he didn’t mind. His eyes traveled down to Dan’s lips and once again, he found something new. They were light pink and full, and from the looks of it very soft if not a bit chapped. He promptly felt the urge to touch those lips, to run his fingers over them softly and feel every bit of the boy’s face with gentle caresses. His hands trembled by his side at the mere thought of doing such a thing, but Dan stepped backward before he could.

He coughed once and jolted Phil out of his absurd imagination. “Shall we be getting back? I think it’s a bit late and I don’t want to keep you till morning.” 

“You’re right.” Phil took a step back as well. “I should be going soon anyways. I have...errands in the morning.”  _ What on Earth was I thinking just now? _

“Oh no, please stay a bit longer! I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, but please have just another drink. On me?” He asked with puppy eyes and Phil sighed heavily but still smiled.

“What the hell? Another drink couldn’t hurt.”

“Great!” Dan bounded on his toes gleefully and draped his arm around Phil’s shoulders. “I promise you won’t regret it!” Dan laughed to himself and proceeded to drag Phil back to the crowded pub awaiting their friends. Phil decided that he wasn’t to regret it, any of it. He was going to do what he wished for once and not worry about the consequences.

*

When Phil arrived back at the manor, it was three o’clock in the morning and he was incredibly drunk. This was due to the fact that one more drink turned into two, then three, then four. Until finally, he stumbled home and managed to not get himself killed by falling into the harbour and drowning. He attempted to go unnoticed by sneaking in through the balcony to his room but, as expected, Nancy was there waiting for him.

“I see you’re finally home, master.” She strived to sound stern, but soon dissolved into giggles when she saw Philip’s state. If she wasn’t his friend, it would be considered unacceptable. “Dear lord, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, so sorry Nan. It’s just- oh god- there was this boy, right? He smiled like  _ the sun  _ and his eyes- his eyes were so  _ pretty.  _ They were like the ocean...if the ocean were brown.” Nancy chuckled at Phil’s drunken babbling.

“Alright, Philip, why don’t you get to bed and I’ll see if I can take out time to comfort you in the morning?”

“Why would I need comfort I’m- _ hic-  _ fine.”

“Trust me, you’ll need it.” She smiled and shook her head as Nancy helped him into bed but Phil caught her wrist before she could leave.

“Nancy. Did you know that you’re my best friend?”

She laughed and smoothed his hair softly. “Yes, pet. However I’m your only friend so there isn’t much competition.” Nancy kissed Phil on the forehead lightly and stood up to leave the bedchambers. Still laughing quietly to herself, Nancy burned the lights out and let the left the young boy to fall asleep peacefully in his bed.


	5. Chapter 5

If Philip thought that mornings were awful before, he absolutely loathed the daybreak on this one. Once reveled sunshine pierced his eyes with brutality of epic strength and each chirp of the sparrow brought him seconds closer to committing homicide. Usually he wasn’t quite as ill-tempered, but the pounding in his head seemed to drive him towards the edge of insanity. The young noble seized one of the pillows beside his head and held it over his face in an attempt to block out everything and possibly return to sleep, but no such luck.

Within minutes that Phil was awake, Nancy entered the room carrying a tray holding a few items. A tall glass of water, a bowl with the same, a teacup, a cloth, and a large empty bucket. Carefully, she set the silver tray down on the nightstand and sat on the bed next to Phil. She nudged him gently twice then began to rub his arm soothingly to try and wake him. Despite being awake, however, Phil was in no mood to budge. His stomach lurched and jolted at every slight disruption, a clot of acidic air catching in his throat.

“Philip? Are you awake?” Nancy’s voice was light and soft and the sound wasn’t at all irritating as Phil thought it would be.

“Hmm.” He hummed in reply.

Nancy immediately brightened up. “Great! Good morning, sir!” Gone was her quiet, tender voice and in its place sounded a sharp tone that made Phil want to cut off his ears.

He lifted the pillow off of his face slightly. “Can you keep it down, please? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Yes, but you’re not asleep, are you?” She chimed, standing up and tidying the space where she sat.

Phil only groaned in reply. He let the pillow flop back down onto his head and turned on his side to ignore Nancy. His stomach, however, hated that idea and began to growl in a sinister way. He tucked his knees up to his chest and took deep breaths, praying for the best.

“Aye, stop making a fuss; you’re fine! Not even that ill. You haven’t even-”

Nancy was cut off by Phil leaning over the side of his bed and vomiting, the sound choking and violent.

“Oh, well now you have.” Nancy rushed over and placed the empty bucket on the floor beside the bed, avoiding the heap of pale vomit, and began to clean the mess up. By the time she had finished Phil had vomited again twice but successfully managed to get all of the sick into the bucket instead of the floor. He was exhausted from retching and barely had enough energy to wipe the residue from his mouth. Nancy returned to his side and eased him back into the bed, propping him up with pillows. Then, grabbing the bowl of water and cloth, she dabbed his sweating forehead with cool water to sooth his temperature.

“Nancy.” Phil sighed, closing his eyes and grimacing. “Nancy I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, Phil,”

“Yes I am. Look at me, I’m the image of pestilence. My pale skin drapes over my bones like a curtain of death, waiting for my living corpse to return to the Earth.”

“That’s because you never go outside. And stop being so melodramatic, it’s unsettling. I think you read too much poetry.”

“Hey!” Phil responded, lifting himself up on his elbows. “I go outside! I was just outside yesterday. I am out  _ way  _ more than you.”

“Phil, darling, you’re paler than me. And I’m Irish. Now lay back, we don’t want you to upset your stomach again.”

Philip grumbled but did as he was told and leaned back against the pillows and headboard. Nancy continued to dab his head with the cloth in silence, although a cheeky smile did play upon her face. A couple minutes went by and neither said a word but eventually Nancy stood yet again to retrieve the glass and teacup.

“Here. Drink the water first then this.” She placed the glass of water to his lips and helped him drink then set the teacup on his hands. It was warm, but not hot enough to be uncomfortable. The black liquid inside sloshed like dark unknown waters.

“What kind of tea is this?” He asked warily. “It smells unlike any other I’ve had.”

“It’s coffee. Very popular in America. I warn you it might not taste pleasant without sugar and cream, but it will cure that nasty headache of yours.”

Phil eyed the black liquid and swallowed hard. He always hated medicine, but if it was so popular in America then it must be for good reason; it couldn’t possibly taste that bad. He put the cup to his lips and drank half of a mouthful. He was dead wrong. The coffee tasted horrendous and he immediately wished to spit it out, but the more rational part of Phil told him to swallow the drink instead. Surprisingly, the aftertaste was nice and honestly quite addicting, not to mention his head felt better already, so he drank some more. Nancy watched all the while with a grin on her face.

“You don’t have anything scheduled this morning; perfect for staying in bed and sweating out the sickness.” Nancy placed the cloth into the water bowl and braced herself into a better sitting position. “Are you going to tell me what you did last night?”

“Not much, really.”

“Oh, are you sure, Philip?” Her voice took a tone of mischief and Phil instantly knew he was in trouble. “Because I seem to recall you babbling on and on about a specific somebody.”

Phil groaned. “Oh God. What did I say?”

Nancy fluttered her eyelashes dramatically and pitched her voice higher. “ _ Oh Nancy, his face was like the sun! Oh Nancy, his eyes were so pretty! Oh Nancy, oh Nancy…. _ ”

Phil responded by groaning again and burying his head farther into the pillows. The one thing he wanted to keep as a secret, drunken Phil had to go and ruin. He had hoped to share the news with Nancy once he was sure he could be in Dan’s life permanently, but it seemed alcohol had spoiled the treat.

“So it is true!” Nancy gasped. “Tell me everything. Please tell me more, he sounds wonderful.” She rested her chin on her open palm and looked at him with wide eyes. Phil sighed; there was no way he could resist that face.

“Well,, his name is Daniel….” Phil started, looking down at his hands but glancing up at his friend shyly.

Nancy nodded vigorously, waiting for more. It wasn’t that the girl had a deep interest in gossip, but that she cared about others’ lives. Especially Philip’s. “Go on.” She urged gently.

“He’s really tall, like frighteningly tall. His skin is sun kissed and his eyes are more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. The deepest, darkest, richest brown. And his voice is so sweet and warm, and his smile is so...bright. It mesmerizes me. And he’s so smart and witty and funny too. And he works at the docks but also in a shop and he wants to travel the world and he’s a year younger than me and he’s amazing.” By the time Phil had finished, he was out of breath and a bit light headed.

Nancy giggled. “He sounds great. I wish I could meet him someday, then I could see these mystical brown eyes for myself.”

“I…” Phil began. He paused for a second and smiled nervously down at his hands. “I really like him.”

His friend’s smile faltered and her face settled into a gaze of a more serious note. “Philip.” She said calmly. “Do you like him the way you like me? Or is it something else?”

He thought for a moment. What on Earth did she mean, liking someone in a different way, that is? It was quite simple: you like someone or you didn’t, and Phil was sure about how he felt for Dan. But when his mind raked over her words carefully, the noble realized there was more to it than he once thought. Nancy was his dearest friend and he would gladly spend all night awake simply talking to her, but with Dan, words weren’t needed. Phil didn’t need to talk endlessly or want to for that matter; all he wanted was his company, his warmth.

Phil drew in a breath shakily. “I think...I think it’s different. With you I feel safe but with him- for him- I feel as though I would take any risk.” Phil bit his lip and looked away, unsure of the words free falling recklessly from his own mouth. “The trouble is, well the trouble I don’t understand. I like him, yes I do very much like him, but how? I’ve never been religious, but I know how people talk of sin. He is definitely a boy, and I am not a girl. Unless,” [a horrifying thought struck his mind. “Unless I am. I am a girl, and this entire time I have just been a delusional, attention seeking child. Nancy, what if I’m not me?” Panic began to swell in his veins, his heart sounding in his ears loudly and his breath quick and uneven.

Nancy merely smiled and took his hand. “Philip, it’s okay.” She soothed. “You know what homosexuality is, yes?”

Phil nodded.

“Well,” she continued. “It’s not what they say it is. Those people filled with hatred and fear know nothing of the purity of love, love that touches each and every person in one way or another. And the thing about people, Phil, is that they can be wrong. So don’t convince yourself that you live a lie, and don’t push yourself away from your emotions. Embrace them. If you find yourself falling in love with this boy, then fall. Fall and be happy.”

“But Nancy.” He said quietly. “It’s against the law. I could be put in prison for this.” 

With hands more tender than any mother’s, Nancy held his face lovingly. “The law isn’t a limit, Philip. It’s a test.” Once again, the kind woman smiled at her friend and kissed his forehead gently. Standing from the bed, she made her way to the door but not before looking over her shoulder once more with a look of encouragement. And with that, Philip Lester was left alone in silence with only his thoughts to listen to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really proud of this chapter ngl. Also sorry for the late update! It's just I had mid terms and then spring break....yeah. P.S I have now developed an obsession with Les Mis so there may or may not be some sneaky references here and there ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is shit

Philip had a bad habit. Granted, he had many bad habits, but this one took the throne of the worst things he could possibly do. And what was that bad habit? Not listening to Nancy’s advice. So instead of using his relished day off to stay in bed and regain his strength, Phil dressed himself, poorly one might add, and escaped to the town where he knew he would find his new friends. Along the way, he only had to stop twice to prevent himself from vomiting and saw that as a success considering. Of course he was wrong, but somehow that didn’t damper his mood. The spring in his step was as prominent as ever.

It was around three o’clock in the afternoon when Philip arrived at the docks in London and the sun beat down ferociously. Phil, who had walked the entire way to the city and never did any physical activity, was suddenly extremely aware of how much he was sweating when he saw that his friends were working this day. He didn’t quite understand why, though, after all he came there knowing it was a work day and expected to see them. Another wave of nausea hit but Phil only swallowed it and prayed it wouldn’t affect him as he approached the working men.

Dan was sitting down on one of the crates with his back to Phil talking with Ri and Harvey without a care in the world. His bright white teeth shone as he opened his mouth to laugh and it took all of Phil’s mental strength to continue breathing normally. It was Harvey who noticed the boy first, but he said nothing and just nodded in his direction looking at Dan. Dan followed his gaze and at the sight of Phil he stood up instantly.

“Um. Hello.” Phil said a bit quietly. He was afraid of his own awkwardness, but luckily Ri was not.

“Philip!” The man boomed. “I’m surprised to see ya up and about, what with all that liquor you downed last night. I have to admit, I took you as a lightweight.” Ri laughed loudly and Phil couldn’t help but grin back.

“Oh he’s definitely a lightweight. Entirely worse than me.” Harvey teased. “Now that you mention it, are you alright? You look dreadful.”

It seemed that in Phil’s ambition to see his friends, he had forgotten the proper way to dress himself. The word disheveled only came close to his appearance, his shirt was rumpled, his trousers were loose, his socks uneven. He hadn’t even bothered glancing in a mirror so he could only imagine what his face looked like. It seemed that he really should have listen to Nancy after all.

“I’m fine.” He lied. “Though this morning was probably the worst experience ever. I didn’t know alcohol could make you that sick.”

At this, Harvey’s innocent giggling turned to snorting. This, of course, made Ri and Dan laugh as well and Phil couldn’t help but feel as though he was in the dark yet again. Finally Dan, who had up till then been silent for some reason, piped up at seeing Phil’s confused face.

“Sorry. It’s just...wow. You’ve never had alcohol before, have you? I mean, it’s not like that’s a bad thing I suppose. Just strange for a commoner to have never gotten smashed before. Where did you say you worked?”

At this, Phil panicked mildly. Quickly he thought of a lie. “At the Lester mansion. I’m a...live-in servant.”

Dan wrinkled his nose. “The Lesters, huh? Must be hell having to serve noble prats day in and day out, right?”

He avoided his eyes. “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

“Wait. Didn’t you say your surname was Lester?” Dan mused.

Phil thought of another lie. “No....I said Chester. Philip Chester.”

Dan paused. “Oh, I guess I misheard you then.”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the foursome and Phil felt the sudden urge to crawl into a hole. In all of the conversation that he had with Dan the night before, politics didn’t come up once. The thought that Daniel might resent the upper class never even crossed his mind. He decided it was a very bad idea to go into town that day. He also decided that he would listen to whatever Nancy told him to do from then on. Eventually, it was Ri that broke the quiet.

“Right. So me and Harv gotta get back to work, but Dan’s still on break so why don’t you lads keep talking and we can catch up later?”

Phil nodded. “Sounds perfect. But I better stay away from the alcohol; the boss will kill me if I show up hungover two days in a row.” The boys laughed at this but Phil had no idea why he said it. The statement made his own father, whom he loved and respected, look horrible and despite that fact Phil had slandered him carelessly. He could feel the guilt settle in his chest like a stone.

When Ri and Harvey had returned to work, only Dan and Phil were left to stand together awkwardly. Finally Phil couldn't take it anymore and asked the question that had been on his mind since Dan had made his fateful statement.

“Do you have something against nobility?” Phil asked almost too strongly.

The surprise question seemed to stun Dan momentarily. “Oh...well....I suppose I do, yeah.”

“And why is that, may I ask?”

“Because they live the high life; eating three course meals thrice a day whilst I have to work two jobs to feed myself. It’s unfair, if you ask me.” Phil couldn’t respond, he didn’t know how to. “And why do they even have all this money? Because ages ago the family was made of knights? It’s the nineteenth century for God’s sake it’s time to move forward. They do nothing and still get rich.”

“That’s not true.” Phil retorted hastily. “Nobles, or at least the Lesters, run respectable and major businesses. They earn their money just like the rest of us.” He only just realized that his voice had risen and he knew that if tension didn’t cool the conversation would soon escalate into a full argument.

“That may be so, but that still doesn’t give them the right to think they’re better than us. I’ve been unlucky enough to meet my share of nobles and they are all the same; turning up their noses at the less fortunate. If you’re coloured, homosexual, or poor, there’s no point in even looking their way.”

Philip was speechless. Gone was the sweet and excitable boy and in his place was a man filled with rage and hatred, and perhaps even a bit of pain. It scared Phil, but it also made him realize how far out of his own waters he was. He never thought about how much his class discriminated anyone other than himself and once again the feeling of guilt made itself known in his chest.

“Dan.” He said, softer this time, “I didn’t- I didn’t know.”

Dan’s jaw tightened as his eyes hardened. It was clear his point wasn’t across quite yet. “Lee and Edwin,” He said darkly. “They are spit on every day for the colour of their skin. And still they persevere. Ri and I are referred to as ‘the gutter rat and the gutter mouse’ and still we get up each morning. And Harvey...Harvey risks a fate far worse than Ri or Lee or Edwin because he was hapless enough to fall in love with another man. I hope you understand now, Phil.”

Dan turned away as if to leave but Phil caught his arm before he had the chance. “I do understand, Dan. And I’m sorry if it seemed like I didn’t care before but I honestly do care, more than you would think. I hope me arguing didn’t put you off enough for us to stop being friends.”

The younger boy looked down at Phil’s hand on his arm intensely. After a deep, shuddering breath, he turned around again, this time with a smile on his face. “You call that arguing? You should see me and Corby going at it sometime, it’s enough for the wenches to kick us out of the pubs.” Dan pulled his arm out of Phil’s grasp only to sling it around his shoulders. “Besides, with the stuff I just told you, there’s no way I could let you out of my sights now. I hate to tell you this, but I think we’re going to have to be friends.”

Phil laughed. “Damn. I was really hoping that you’d hate me forever.”

“No, sorry. Now that I know where you live I’m going to write you all the time and you’ll be forced into interacting with me. And that’s a promise.”

“I’m looking forward to those letters to keep my fire burning.” Phil had said this to imply that he would burn the letters instead of reading them as a joke, but there seemed to be a double meaning and Dan took the other meaning to heart.

The poor boy nearly tripped on his own feet when he heard the words. “Well I- I suppose I better write good letters, huh?” Back again was the awkward sixteen year old, and again it brought out the embarrassed seventeen year old in Philip.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll- um- look forward to those.”

Dan raised his eyebrows.“Phil-”

“I have to go now.” Phil’s voice cracked. “ Immediately. Lots of busy stuff to do, you know? Like cleaning and cooking and...cleaning.” He began back away but tripped over a crate and fell onto his elbows. Dan reached out to help but Phil was intent on not making a fool out of himself. Anymore.

“I’m fine!” He assured. “I’m keen. Keen as a bean.” He grimaced as the words left his mouth.   _ Philip, close your mouth and never open it again.  _ “Alright, goodbye!” And with that, Phil jumped up from the ground and left the docks, not giving Dan the chance to see his reddened face by looking back. It took him twenty minutes to find his way home and another five to get undressed and back into bed. With the events of that day, only one thing was certain. Philip Lester should always take Nancy's advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but I could honestly write four entire chapters dedicated to my love for Harvey but I'm NOT going to do that because I am a RESPECTABLE fic writer who is definitely not in love my fictional gay ginger baby


	7. Chapter 7

The following few days was quite uneventful to say the least. Philip, in embarrassment and perhaps even shame, tried to avoid contact with Daniel for as long as he could without feeling outcast himself. This was evidently easy considering the fact that he was overrun with “nobility duties”. A tudor had been summoned to teach him how to sew and present homes and generally be a fine  _ wife.  _ He grit his teeth through every second of it, but in all honesty he enjoyed the knitting portion. He even made Nancy socks with mismatched patterns in his own time. He supposed it wasn’t too unbearable.

It was just about four days past the humiliating incident at the docks when Phil had decided to take a short rest from the day’s rigorous activities. Alone in his bedchambers, there was about an hour of time for Phil to do whatever he wanted, whether that be reading his favourite novel for the hundredth time or simply closing his eyes and basking in the daylight. He chose, however, to redress himself. He slipped out of his confining dress on his own, a skill he had acquired through practice, and found a comfortable pair of black trousers to put on, binding his chest as well but leaving it bare for no reason other than he wanted to. In his more agreeable state, Philip eased himself into an armchair and looked out of the window, deeply absorbed in thought.

The window in Philip’s room, though it was more of a door, opened to a juliette balcony just wide enough for one person. The room itself was on the top floor of the estate, three above ground level, but the view from the balcony made it seem that much higher. A sea of rocks and wild grass sloped downhill gently and in the soft breeze they themselves seemed like an ocean. Flowers dotted the land both blue and purple and a thick brush of trees lined the small space gazed upon so often by the young noble. The trees provided excellent coverage, as no one would dare spy on him purposefully, and he was free to do whatever he pleased with the window open. It was a lucky thing that he had this much privacy; he loved having the window open.

Philip’s serenity was interrupted when he heard a faint knock at the door. He did not panic, however, as he had come to recognize the timbre of those certain knuckles rapping against his door daily.

“Come in, Nancy.” He breathed.

The girl entered the room carefully, not opening the door wide should anyone see what was happening inside. When she saw Phil’s attire, she merely sighed.

“Phil. It took us fifteen minutes to get you dressed before and now I have to undress you and redress you for your French lesson. Mademoiselle Fauchelevent will be in within the half hour, you know.”

“I know.” Phil said wistfully. Of course he knew, he just didn’t care. The boy was too preoccupied with thoughts of warm pastries and green leaves and soft gazes to pay heed to reality.

Nancy shook her head. “I have a feeling you’re going to be the death of me.” She walked further into the room this time, moving directly beside the chair that Philip currently resided in. “And one more thing. A letter came for you. Well, I can only assume it came for you as you are the only Philip in the manor, but it was addressed to a Philip Chester, and it came in the servant's mailslot?” Nancy’s tone twisted up at the end in a questioning demeanor, almost in speculation of Phil’s spiral of lies.

His eyes, once closed, snapped open. Immediately he grabbed the letter from Nancy and tore open the paper. Sure enough, the letter was for him. The paper felt old in his hands and it crackled a bit like it was old despite appearing relatively new. The handwriting itself was absolutely terrible and difficult to read entirely. Philip had to fetch his spectacles and squint at the words to make them out but even so he smiled to himself when he happened upon the curls of the little “f”s of the script. Without a doubt, this letter was written by Daniel James Howell.

Positioning himself near the light of the window, Philip began to read.

_ Salut, Phil! _

_ I do believe I made you a promise. I promise I very much intend to keep. Just in case it slipped your mind, I plan to write you all the time until I annoy you so much that you’re forced into dealing with me via friendship. I would write you everyday but you see paper is expensive and you’re not that interesting. That was a joke, apologies if you were offended for a moment. I seem to be getting off topic. By any means, the point of this letter is, yes that I may disturb your work maliciously, but also so that I may come to know you better. It has come to my attention that I have shared with you my life story, but you have not yours. It is only a thing to think about! You may write back at your wish. _

_ With kindness,  _

_ Dan _

Phil sat back against his chair, the words on the page circling his mind as fluently and ferociously as a whirlpool.  _ With kindness.  _ That one statement seemed to have the deepest affect on him for some odd reason. He couldn’t place a finger on why exactly, but he knew that the words made him smile. 

The envelope smelled like smoke, an intoxicating scent Philip had to stop himself from inhaling. Without meaning to his thoughts drifted, wondering if this was what the mysterious boy’s  home smelled of. He imagined a wood burning fireplace made of old bricks and a low ceiling that caught the smoke when it wandered from the hearth. Philip could practically see Dan sitting in front of burning coals writing the letter so contently. It made him sigh. How lovesick he truly was.

He was about to set the envelope and letter down on the table beside him when a tiny black script scrawled on the yellowed paper caught his eyes. On the back of the creased, folded, and stained envelope was written a few lines swirled intricately in a strange cursive. It looked to be the product of a random burst of inspiration and the lack of any other place to write.

_ Life is not measured by the _

_ Number of breaths we take, _

_ But by the moments that _

_ Take our breath away. _

This was the downfall of the boy we know as Philip Lester. If he had any doubts before, those four simple lines of poetry corrected them. Even if what he felt was not yet pure, unsuppressed love, it was clear that that was exactly what it would grow to be. He was utterly and absolutely smitten.

“Philip?” Nancy inquired, her voice taking a tone of concern. “Are you alright, love?”

It seemed that in the moments after reading Daniel’s poem Phil had managed to bury his face into a pillow and a faint noise similar to a scream could be heard. In Nancy’s defense she had every right to be worried about the curious child.

“He writes poetry.” Was all he could say. “Poetry, Nancy. He’s perfect and I detest him for it. I swear Nan, if what is happening here with me doesn’t get resolved and resolved soon I am going to die.”

“You said the same thing this morning when you stubbed your toe on the breakfast table. Now stop being so dramatic and let me dress you.”

Philip grumbled but didn’t resist. He knew quite well that there was no use in resisting Nancy Claire.

When the deed was done and Philip was back into his tight dress and itchy wig, he resumed his place in the arm chair. Except now, he had something to do instead of daydreaming. His mind was racing in a match with his heart, each contestant competing to win resulting in a fluster of thoughts and emotions felt by the boy. He reached for the nearest slip of paper and the finest pen that he had hidden away after having “borrowed” it from his father. With confidence Phil put the pen to the paper and watch as a little dot of ink began to pool. In a swift motion, he guided the ink and commenced writing. He knew not of the words that were to come, but only the ones that would start the beginning of something. The beginning of something wonderful.

_ Dear Daniel. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I haven't updated in a while but in my defense....*runs away*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rlly like this chapter

The letters to the Lester household continued steadily, and just as the writing grew stronger so did the bond between the two authors. In the privacy of ink and paper they each shared their true thoughts without any to witness and for the first time in his life, Philip felt naked. He was completely bare to the whims of this boy and his soul was at his fingertips; he was his entirely. Whether Daniel knew it or not, Philip belonged to him and him alone.

With the help of Nancy, Philip managed to keep all of everything a secret from everyone, but not even she knew the contents of the letters that were sent and received. A servant doesn’t ask questions, but a friend hasn’t the need to. As for these letters, they were more like hymns than a conversation of friends. The poetry written by Daniel on the back of each note was as sacred as any godly text to Philip, and he showed his worship of the words in the way he signed each of his messages: “ _ with fondness, Philip. _ ” 

And yet still, in the eyes of the poor young noble, Daniel James Howell was farther away than he could be if he crossed the Pacific. It is always the flightless bird that longs for the sky.

As the humid days of August drifted away like leaves in the breeze, a gloomy autumn replaced it. It was a good thing that the noble boy relished in the warm sun when he did, for now only god knew when the light would return. Coldness and the wet air always evokes a different spirit for people of dissimilar kinds, for some it is calming, for others it is frightening. Philip had always been the former, and Daniel the latter. It seemed that because of this, he would finally understand the depths of his love’s soul.

The truth made itself present, as it had been doing for some time now, within a letter. Daniel revealed that once he had been in love, but that it had not ended in a good manner. The one whom he loved, though they were not named, had been a friend of his, and they fell in love with another. Silently he watched as his love slipped through his fingers and he could do nothing about it. He dared not interfere, as he only wished for the best of his lover. For this reason he called himself the Éponine of England.

Philip’s heart broke on behalf of Daniel’s. To love and not be loved in return was a condition that one can never be fully cured of. Even after the feeling in the heart is dead, there will always be the single thought: it is because I was not well enough for them. Oh, the irony! As Philip yearned for the boy who was oblivious to him, the boy had fallen for another and was broken in turn. But that mattered not. Philip knew he could be the one to piece Daniel back together.

They saw often of each other, but not as often as either would have liked. It would be lucky if Philip joined Daniel and his friends once a week, or possibly even twice. But they managed, and never were they swayed by others that their friendship was weak. It was stronger than it could have ever been.

Even more so the days grew colder and the hushed promise of winter settled over London, the rich dawning furs and the peasants wrapping themselves in layers of thin cotton. The August that had turned to September now became November, and soon Daniel would be released from work at the docks and would move to the old cobbler’s shop to make a few pounds over the season of snow. It was also in this time that Philip’s father would travel often to the winter house in Scotland for business as well as holiday, leaving Philip and his mother in the warmth of their home. Not needing to take any more college lessons, if Philip wished to spend all the day in his room alone, not one person would object to it. Of course, we know that it is not in his room where he would spend time in reality. Becoming a skilled man in the art of escaping, the slender noble would slip away and return only with a full heart. It is one of these times, a night in the ides of November, where we find him again with Daniel and his friends.

At the same pub as before, where Philip had regretfully become a regular as his friends were, eight men sat on stools laughing and drunkenly singing songs. These men were none other than Philip and his friends; Harvey, Ri, Lee, Edwin, Hugh, Corby, and of course, Daniel. With a stein of beer in his hands Philip swayed on his seat and joined in to Ri’s rousing verse of Oom Pah Pah, not knowing most of the words and yet not caring. He wasn’t drunk, this must be made clear, but neither was he fully sober. Dry enough to speak formal, intoxicated enough to say damning words. 

It was at this moment that Philip caught Daniel’s eyes from across the table at which they were sitting. Those rich brown eyes that he loved so, the ones that would drive him mad, they looked at him with warmth. A warmth, it seemed, Philip could not handle. He stopped of breath and excused himself from the table, running out into the street like a frightened child. Perhaps that is what he was.

Alone he walked slowly down the cobblestone lit only by a few lamps, as not even the moon or stars bothered to show this time of year. It had taken Philip a moment to realize that it was raining, and that he was cold. The boy shivered, partially of the chill and partially of shame. He found himself standing in front of the docks, empty of ships now, and looked out upon the dark grey water. It calmed him.

Philip was pulled out of his serenity by a large hand placed on his shoulder, and when he turned around he was met again with those brown eyes. Daniel, in concern, had followed him.

“Phil,” he said softly, the drumming of the rain rain nearly drowning him out. “Are you alright? You left in a hurry, looked as if you were gonna be sick.”

This was true, Philip felt as though he were about to be sick. But he swallowed it, and instead something far worse came out of his mouth.

“I must tell you something.” He blurted.

Daniel looked surprised but his soft gaze remained. “Of course, what is it?”

“It’s…it’s important. And before you get the chance to talk or discourage me, I’m just going to tell you.” He took a deep breath, unable to back away now. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, my heart has never been the same. And I think that’s because a piece of it now lies with you. What I’m trying to say is I have fallen in love with you and your eyes like candy and your face like the sun and your loud laugh and your single dimple and your annoying banter and everything about you. And I understand if you don’t share these feelings with me, but you have the right to know.”

There was a silence, and only the rain on the waters could be heard. Philip took this is as a thing of misfortune and turned away from Daniel. Whilst he did not run, his feet moved quickly to put a respectable distance between them. Tears stung his eyes, but he would not let them fall. He should have known this was to happen.

“Stop!” He heard Daniel call. As he spun around he could see that the boy was running, quite clumsily he might add, towards him. Now it was he who was short of breath.

Standing directly in front of him, Daniel looked at Philip with a fierceness in his eyes. “What makes you think I don’t?”

Philip, confused, opened his mouth to speak, but his train of thought halted as a warm hand was placed on his cheek. “Philip Chester.” Daniel spoke with a mellow, yet shaky voice. “I may be in love with you as well.”

There was timidness in the way Daniel leaned down to Philip, and an almost fear in how Philip stood on his toes to meet Daniel, but there was nothing uncertain about their kiss. The feeling of lips pressed against lips was soft and gentle, but the longing was clearer than day, and the satisfaction that came with it was just as so. Like one gets too close to the fire to feel the heat up close, the lovers wanted nothing more than to burn up in the embrace of one another. But the kiss that lasted for eternity also ended too soon, and when their lips had parted, their foreheads instead pressed together.

“I don’t believe I have ever felt like that before.” Philip breathed.

“Yeah?” Daniel grinned. “Me neither.”

He laughed. “That’s reassuring.” He looked around. “Do you think anyone saw us?”

“What, you mean saw two buggers out in the street? Naw, this rain is thicker than stew. We’re safe, love.”

Philip rested his head on Daniel’s chest, listening to his heartbeat contently.  _ He loves me as well.  _ The thought played in his head on a loop, still unable to believe it himself. They were in love with each other. After all this time, they had been in love with each other. But then, as this lofty thought faded, a darker one took its place. This thought was of the truth, the truth he had been hiding for so long.

“Dan.” He whispered, looking up at his beloved. “There is another thing you must know of.”

“I hope it as good as the last news.” The latter smiled.

“It may not be.”

“Is something the matter?”

Philip bit his lip. “What were you to say if I....if I was born...someone different?” 

Daniel looked down upon him. “I’m not sure what you mean, Phil.”

“What if, instead of being born Philip, I was born...Penelope?”

Daniel said nothing for a moment and his entire body went rigid. Philip could feel this, and his heart sank. When he finally spoke, his tone was tentative. “Are you telling me that you were...born a girl?”

“Would you love me any less if it were true?” The sadness in his voice was entirely too whole, and because of this Daniel responded immediately.

“Of course not.” He wrapped his arms tighter around Phil, enveloping him in love. “I admit that it may complicate some things in the future, but I have fallen in love with  _ you.  _ Not your sex.” He tilted up his chin to look him in the eyes. “And I will always love you.”

In the rain the two boys stood in each other’s arms, knowing of nothing but each other in that moment. And, in that moment, they were truly happy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this chapter "Nancy is my mom" please enjoy

It was not the gentle touch of the morning sun that awoke Philip, but the clamour of dishes banging together. His eyes fluttered open sleepily and he saw that Nancy was carrying a breakfast tray with his favourite tea. He smiled as much as a tired young man could; then his eyes fell upon the periwinkle dress laid on the arm chair carefully.

“Good morning! Your schedule is extremely full today, I’m afraid.” Nancy too scowled at the dress on Philip’s behalf. “And your mother wanted you to wear this ugly thing! Forget that it’s for women it should be for the dogs with that design.”

Philip laughed at Nancy and her ever free words. Truly, the dress was hideous. The high collar was made entirely out of a sickly cream-yellow lace until it reached the bosom where the purple nightmare started. The corset was flat and shaped nothing at all, the skirt protruding underneath it seemingly made out of a tablecloth of the same hue, and to finish the dreadful look a shawl of the same lace and a blue hat with a ridiculous amount of flowery was added to the piece. On a normal day Philip would gag at the sight of the repulsive clothing, but this morning he couldn’t be bothered. It was that evening’s events that had cast a permanent smile on his face, one he felt he would never be rid of.

“What are you smiling about?” Nancy teased lightly. Surely, she must have known.

Philip sighed dramatically. “I am in love.” He paused to suppress a giddy giggle. “And he loves me as well, Nancy.”

Nancy’s smile faltered ever so and she looked at him with the care of a mother in her soft eyes. “Philip, you must be careful.”

“All is well. I told him what I was and he couldn’t care less.”  
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She sat down next to Philip and looked at him a bit more sternly than before. “You are a boy with another boy, that alone could send you to prison for god knows how long. And if the police discover your identity? Philip, this could all go very, very wrong. Please understand me when I say you _must_ be careful.”

Philip gulped. “Yes Nancy. I understand.”

There was a bit of silence before Nancy cleared her throat. “Well, like I said, you have a very busy day. Breakfast this morning is with your parents and you shall be having poached eggs, raspberries, french bread, butter, and oolong tea. Shortly after breakfast around ten o’clock a noble family shall be arriving- the Tranceys I do believe- and you will be expected along with your mother to entertain the Lady of the house and their two daughters. The ladies and you will have lunch in the courtyard and both families will join together for supper.”

“Nancy?”

“Yes Philip?”

“Thank you.”

She nodded curtly. “Of course, Phil. It’s my job.” Phil couldn’t tell if she was talking about the schedule or the advice, but perhaps it was both. Either way, he was thankful and he loved her. Nancy helped him dress in the wretched outfit and he was ready for the day he knew would be terrible.

Breakfast was quiet, or at least for Philip. Whether his parents were talking or not was unbeknownst to him, and only the thoughts of cold rain and warm lips crossed his mind. Even his favourite tea became water on his tongue as he dreamt of the splendids of that night before and he swore he could fly away from all of his troubles if those lips were to touch his once again. However, he was ripped away from his fantasy land by the sound of his mother’s voice from across the table.

“Penelope!” She roared. “Penelope, are you listening to me? I said Dorothy and Rose Trancey are joining us for lunch but Levi will only be with us for supper.”

“Yes mother, I know. Nan- my maid told me.”

“Ah, good!” She chuckled a little to herself. “It’s funny to me that you’re only meeting the Tranceys now after how long we’ve discussed them.”

“Yes, you’re quite right.” Philip’s mind was starting to slip away once again but a good portion of it remained at his mother’s attention.

“Penelope darling you seem so nonchalant! Aren’t you excited to meet Levi?”

“I suppose so, but I meet with other nobles many times already; what is there so different about this time that I am to be excited about?”

A hush fell over the breakfast room and Philip’s mother sat agape and silent in her chair. Even his father had looked up from his business to stare in question and disbelief at his child. Philip, clueless as always, had no idea what was going on.

“What? Have I said something?” He mused.

His father sighed and muttered to himself. “Why must you always have your head in the clouds….”

“Penelope,” his mother started slowly and somewhat sternly. “We have discussed this. We have  _ been  _ discussing this since August. Levi Trancey is your betrothed.”

“My  _ what _ ?!” Philip couldn’t care that he was shouting or that his father was glaring at him across the table.

“Penelope settle down! It is not lady-like for a woman to shriek like that!”

_ I’m not a lady!  _ He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell that he wasn’t their little girl from the rooftops until his lungs burned and his eyes stung with hot tears. Instead, he bit the inside of his cheek and took the words like bullets.

“Do you not remember when we talked about this?” His father looked exhausted of his outbursts, outbursts that had been absent since he was a child but were now returning. “I explained to you that nobles only marry nobles and that when you were eighteen you too would marry- yours and Levi’s marriage has been arranged since you were born, Penelope.”

Philip sank back into his chair with a thunk. Once again he did not care how ‘unlady-like” he was being because as of now he didn’t give a damn. He could feel that thread of bright hope slipping away from his grasp like sand, and his new world turning dark and cold. He had spent months falling in love with a beautiful, loving, caring young man, and now he was to wed another. No, it was not “now”, he had always been promised to this phantom and if it weren’t for his deafness to cold truth he could have saved himself from this mess. If he knew, he could have prevented himself from being with Daniel and the pain he felt now. But deep in his heart he knew that that could never have happened; he would always fall in love with the boy with brown eyes.

Philip doesn’t remember standing up from the table or walking slowly up the stairs as if half dead, only the feeling as he fell onto his soft bed in defeat. That was when he began to realize exactly how grave the situation was- if he married a strange man, not only would he be giving up his love, he would be giving up his life. No more being called “he” and “him” and “mister”, he would become a lady of the house. Losing Daniel was unthinkable, but losing himself was unbearable. He felt a wetness on his pillow and realized that he was crying but did not wipe the tears away, instead he let them flow. He was too tired to stop them.

A gentle hand touched his back and he thought for a second that maybe, just maybe, it was his mother’s hand. When he lifted his head, he was not surprised to see that it was Nancy and not his mother. His mother never held him when he cried like this.

“Philip, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Nancy rubbed circles on his back to calm him.

He sat up and sniffled, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. “I- I’m betrothed. I h-have to get married. Everything I worked for...everything I risked to be happy...it’s going to be ripped out from underneath me, Nancy.” He cried. “What was even the point of doing all this? Dressing up as a man and chasing after a boy at the docks? It was all for nothing.”

Nancy gripped his shoulders and made him look at her in the eyes. “Listen to me Philip, there is only one thing I know for certain. You fight for what you want in life, tooth and nail, and once you have it you never let it go.” Her voice was soft yet strong; it was compelling. “So don’t you  _ dare  _ let yourself go.”

“But Nancy, I’m scared.” Philip felt almost ashamed to utter the words, like he was a child admitting he lost a game.

“I know you are, it’s alright to be scared. But no matter what you are brave and strong, one of the bravest and strongest people I know, actually. You can get through this, and you will survive as who you are.” She smiled. “And I’ll be damned if anyone tears that boy away from you; you were the happiest I’ve ever seen this morning and only a special person can make you feel that way.”

Phil smiled a little through the tears. “Thank you, Nancy.” He reached out to hug her and she met him halfway, her warmth enveloping him. Never before had his love for her been so great, and never before had her need to protect him been so strong.

“Anytime, Philip. Now, let us clean you up, you have long day ahead of you.” She whispered into his hair. And he knew it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna try to explain myself for not updating in a month. I've been kinda busy with school and also I've been in that "i will do anything except write" mood so ehhh. I'll try to finish this fic before September tho I promise. Also I'm really glad you all like Nancy! Because I love her and nothing bad happens to her :) nothing at all :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!!! I'm so glad you decided to read this fic an I'm excited of what you'll think of it! I wrote this plot line almost two years ago and have decided to rewrite and adapt to to be a phanfic (because I'm trash lmao). If you are one of those who read the Obstacle of Time and saw the writing schedule I had up, then completely ignore that. Basically I went "lol fuck that shit" and sat down to write three entirely different plots. Anyways: I hope you enjoy!  
> ~comments are greatly appreciated :3~


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